23-Dec-2024
I've been reading Sea and Sardinia, by D.H. Lawrence. There'll be more about it eventually on The Velvet Cushion. (POSTSCRIPT 30 December: And here it is.)
It documents an incredibly brief trip that the author made in January 1921 with his wife, Frieda. They've sailed from Palermo:
"And suddenly there is Cagliari: a naked town rising steep, steep, golden-looking, piled naked to the sky from the plain at the head of the formless hollow bay. It is strange and rather wonderful, not a bit like Italy. The city piles up lofty and almost miniature, and makes me think of Jerusalem: without trees, without cover, rising rather bare and proud, remote as if back in history, like a town in a monkish, illuminated missal. One wonders how it ever got there. And it seems like Spain -- or Malta: not Italy. It is a steep and lonely city, treeless, as in some old illumination. Yet withal rather jewel-like: like a sudden rose-cut amber jewel naked at the depth of the vast indenture. The air is cold, blowing bleak and bitter, the sky is all curd. And that is Cagliari. It has that curious look, as if it could be seen, but not entered. It is like some vision, some memory, something that has passed away. Impossible that one can actually walk in that city: set foot there and eat and laugh there..."
Later, he describes the city as cold, stony, strange, dreary, and very steep...
After three days of wandering, we can definitively say that his version of Cagliari is not ours... Well, admittedly, it's steep. It's another city set on the side of a hill (several hills, actually). So there's lots of up:
Steps up... This is the Bastione di Saint Remy...
...which gives you brilliant views
Somewhere up here is the Piazza David Herbert Lawrence. But we couldn't find the actual sign
The old Castello quarter. Full of narrow streets. Slightly frustrating to walk here, as you have to keep your eyes out for cars. I was mildly irritated. DHL would have gone into full rant mode...
The Tower of San Pancrazio, 37 metres tall, on a terrace 130 metres up
Definitely up...
Looking out into the larger world
Lawrence mentions the fortress, and the Cathedral. He gives the latter rather short shrift. We thought it was awesome, even on a day when there were more cruiseboaters wandering around than we would have chosen:
He also talks about the Via Roma: "The usual sea-front with dark trees for a promenade and palatial buildings behind, but here not so pink and gay, more reticent, more sombre of yellow stone":
Beyond the Via Roma with its cafes and shops, there's a lovely seafront
San Francesco on the top of Monte Urpino
Lawrence doesn't talk about going up here, but it does give you a good overview of some of the topography he describes
Were the flamingoes there in Lawrence's time?
He makes no mention at all of the Roman amphiteatre, carved out somewhere between the 1st and 2nd centuries AD:
What he does keep emphasizing is how cold it is (they came in January)... My problem is that it's cold in the morning, so you need to rug up, but then -- once the sun comes out to play -- the temperature rises like a rocket, and being rugged up means you're too hot. All the way round the Mediterranean, I've been either too hot or too cold...
This is where Lawrence and Frieda stayed. La Scala di Ferro used to be a hotel
The posh place next door
And a view up the street
Lawrence and his wife stroll and look at the shops. "But there is little to see," he concludes. So after just one night, they're heading off up country on the 1430 train...
Lawrence travelled obsessively in later life, and yet in some ways he doesn't seem to be a traveller... He writes beautifully about the things that catch his eye (it's the food market that he seems most impressed by in Cagliari), but there's so much that his eye glosses over. Yes, I know we're all like that to a certain extent. The place you visit is yours alone. But this urge to bundle straight out of Cagliari does seem odd.
To me, Cagliari, alongside the attractions above, is the city of balconies:
And I know already that -- far from wanting to dash off after a day -- we'll be sorry we can't be here longer.